Page 7 of Ten Christmases Without You
Wait, what?
“Really?” The word came out breathier than she’d planned. Imagining that hunk of a man, sipping coffee with his nose in a book, made her want to rip his shirt off right there in the living room.
He let out a loud laugh. “No. I don’t drink hot beverages of any kind. But your face was priceless.” He tipped his head back and laughed again, then doubled over. “I do live in a very small apartment, but I’d rather be at a bar watching football.”
She cut her eyes at him.
She couldn’t get angry at his little joke, though. She’d basically done the same thing, making him believe that she had some wonderful life in New York, when really, it was a disaster. She barely made rent on a 150 square-foot apartment—that’s right, 150 square feet. There were parking spots bigger than that, and she paid $2,350 a month for it, which meant that she couldn’t afford anything else. It wasn’t even one of those adorable “little spaces” that were all over YouTube. Nope. The roof leaked in the winter, the floor was always cold, she stored pots and pans under her bed, and the doors were falling off her two kitchen cabinets.
He leaned in, bringing her back to the present, his face close enough to hers that her breath caught. “Butyouseem like the type who’d like a coffee and a good book. You seem like the type who’s literally dying having to sit on this sofa and talk to me. You seem like the type who wants nothing more than to get out of here.”
Her cheeks warmed suddenly. Was it the alcohol or the fact that he could read her like a Sunday newspaper?
“And I’m with you.” He whispered, “Your Uncle Stephen’s in there debating the manner in which armadillos procreate. He caught one the other day in a trap, and he swore they bred like rabbits.”
She winced. “Gross. He’s so weird.”
Charlie laughed again, and the sight of it made her heart patter.
If anything, he could help her pass the time tonight, and at the very least give her a reason not to go into the kitchen fora while longer. She could claim she was keeping him company, which would give her a purpose and make her look sociable, and was something her family would be proud of. Over the years, Emmy hadn’t managed to find much to please them. And Madison would feel like she’d done a great thing in asking Charlie to come over. So sitting there with him, Emmy was a regular savior.
Merry Christmas.
CHAPTER THREE
Two drinks. That was all it took before Charlie was urging Emmy into the kitchen.
“You can’t avoid your family forever,” he said, taking a step toward the doorway.
Emmy rattled the ice cubes in her empty glass and tipped up the watery remnants of her drink, her feet firmly planted on the oak hardwoods beneath them. The second serving of alcohol had been just enough to relax her, but not enough to help her endure what was waiting on the other side of that double door.
“I most certainly can avoid it. They haven’t even looked for me in the last hour.” She was practically invisible.
“I heard your stomach growl. There’s food in there.”
“I could text my sister to make us a plate,” she teased.
“She’s enjoying herself. And I believe in you. You’re fully capable of taking a deep breath, putting on a smile, and facing them. You’ve already practiced that skill with me and look how it turned out: an uneventful hour with minimal anxiety.”
She squinted at him. “Has it occurred to you that I haven’t seen you in seven years, haven’t spoken to you in over a decade, until tonight, and I’d rather sit here with you than go in there? The threat is real.”
He chuckled.
She was actually enjoying Charlie. The last thing she wanted was for her family to paint an unfavorable picture of her.
“I’m not kidding. One of my aunts will inevitably tell you how unsuccessful and introverted I am. Another will speak to my inability to groom myself. My uncle might monopolize the next twenty minutes, telling you a story that will have absolutely no impact on your life. You don’t want to go in there.”
“I’m fully aware. I’ve been in to get both your drinks,” he said with a glimmer of humor in his eye.
“This whole night, so far, seems to befunsomehow for you. Why?”
“Because life is entertaining when you don’t take it too seriously.”
So he was implying that she took things too seriously? She squared her shoulders. “You don’t live with them.”
“You don’t either.”
He took a step toward her, his spicy scent tickling her nose in the best way.
